


Choice

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You had no choice.</p>
<p>It's important to keep that in mind, you know that.</p>
<p>You're the victim, and you had no choice in what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of those weird "I'm riding a train at the end of a long day and I'm insanely tired" fics! Wahey! Unbeta'd - I proofread it but I can't guarantee I spotted every tiny thing.
> 
> **Warning** : Contains graphic, albeit short description of rape.
> 
> I'll leave some more notes at the end of the fic. For now, enjoy. :)

You had no choice.

 

It's important to keep that in mind, you know that.

 

You're the victim, and you had no choice in what happened.

 

The choice was taken from you when they knocked you out, tied your hands behind your back with rough rope and brought you to some place unknown to you. It was taken from you by that gun, pressing against the side of your head as you stared at the man's then-clothed crotch, directly in front of your eyes.

 

They wanted to teach you a lesson. You'd come too close to discovering their little secret. They didn't want to kill a copper, but they knew a different way to keep you silent.

 

You had no choice. You did what was necessary. What happened next wasn't your fault. The fact that you began to suck doesn't mean you did it voluntarily. You had to survive.

 

You knew it wasn't going to be easy. You knew what they were going to say to you, to try and make you believe it's all your fault – you've read enough cases similar to this. You went through all the details in your head, the victim statements, the medical files, the typical aftermaths, as you were filled up, from the front, from behind, and then both at once, the edge of the table digging into your skin all the while.

 

You had no choice.

 

When they left you there, on the dirty ground, they thought they'd won. How else do you explain, as you gather yourself up, that they cut away the ropes before abandoning you? But you don't mind that. It means that now, you are able to put yourself straight, and go home.

 

Just as soon as your knees stop giving out whenever you attempt to stand up.

 

**

 

You know what's going to happen next. You limp home on unsteady legs. You fumble for the keys. You step into your bathtub and stay in the water for a while – not until it turns to cold, because that wouldn't be good for you. You have to look after yourself now. Make yourself a cup of tea – carefully. You don't want to spill any of it. The warmth will be good for you. Wash away the taste. You take a painkiller as well.

 

The telly stays off tonight. You lie down on your side. You make sure you can still see the door. You've made sure it's locked twice.

 

You know you probably won't sleep, and you know that's to be expected. You're prepared for it. You know how this works. And that knowledge will help you get through.

 

**

 

You smile at Annie. You roll your eyes at Ray. You help Chris with his files. You follow the Guv's orders.

 

You avoid physical contact. Which is normal. It's what people who experienced what you did, do. Nothing to be ashamed of, just a typical reaction.

 

The others don't suspect a thing, and you're relieved. It isn't easy to cope with what happened, but you're confident that if you just keep at it, by yourself, you can do it. There's no need to confide in anyone. And you're not letting them win by doing as they said. No – you're outwitting them. You're gathering your strength, and even more intelligence on them. You'll arrest them, yourself. It will be a perfect victory. It will show them that they have no power over you.

 

You just need a bit more time to get started.

 

**

 

It all goes well, for a few days.

 

You're concentrating on the file in front of you – _their_ two faces staring up at you, on a victim report. They've been murdered. Part of a gang war, from the looks of it.

 

You're so caught up in reading about their injuries that you don't hear the Guv call your name. You don't hear him approach you.

 

But you do feel the hand clamping down on your shoulder.

 

The next thing you know, you're standing. Your chair is upturned. Your knuckles hurt, but probably not as much as the Guv's face does. Or his head, for that matter. He hit it when he went crashing to the floor.

 

The silence around you is deafening.

 

The Guv slowly picks himself up. The glare he shoots you is deadly.

 

You have no choice.

 

He comes barrelling at you. Suddenly, he stops, inches away from you. You are confused – until you remember the paperknife you're gripping with trembling hands. It's pointing at the Guv's chest.

 

You have no choice.

 

They have to understand that. They gave you no choice. You were forced into this.

 

There was nothing you could do.

 

You didn't want to--

 

You--

 

I--

 

I didn't want it--

 

I had no choice – I had no choice. Don't look at me like that. You have to understand, I never wanted this, any of it, but they gave me no choice, please stop staring, I'm, I don't, I didn't, please--

 

_Please_ \--

 

**

**

**

 

Gene had only allowed Sam to be brought to the hospital because Sam just wouldn't wake up after conking out in the middle of the office. His mad rant before he'd collapsed hadn't made any sense – Gene's first thought had been that Sam must have murdered someone, and now the guilt had finally crushed his little overactive brain.

 

And then the doctor had called Gene into his office to talk to him in private.

 

The diagnosis was sexual assault.

 

**

 

Gene has to wait until the next day to talk to Sam, because the doctors thought it best to keep him sedated. Apparently he hasn't been sleeping much, if at all.

 

He sits by his DI's bedside, staring at his prone form. How did he not notice those dark shadows under his eyes before? And his skin, white as a sheet. He can just about forgive himself for not noticing the fading rope marks around Sam's wrists, what with the overlong cuffs his DI insists on wearing. The limp on the other hand wasn't that easy to explain away, but he had still accepted Sam's excuse of having hurt his knee while out on a run disgustingly quickly. Something had definitely been wrong, and he should have realised. He's the Guv, and his officers are his responsibility – even those who refuse to work as a team.

 

But then, Sam hadn't seemed any different, apart from the fact that he was more docile, more obedient than usual (in hindsight, the thought makes Gene feel distinctly ill). He had done his job. Sam, a notoriously terrible actor, had managed to fool them all.

 

Even himself.

 

**

 

'Why didn't you tell me?'

 

Sam isn't looking at him. 'It didn't concern you.'

 

Gene has to keep himself from grabbing Sam's collar. 'You're my DI.'

 

'You didn't have to deal with it. I did.'

 

'That what you would've told any victim, then?'

 

'No.'

 

'Then why--!'

 

'I'm not weak. It was my responsibility to deal with this. I--'

 

Again, Gene resists the urge. No matter how angry he is, this won't lead to anything, if the sizeable bump and cut on his forehead are anything to go by. Besides, the way Sam's arms are crossed and pressed tight against his body speaks volumes. So, instead of physically forcing Sam to raise his head, Gene simply says, 'Look at me.'

 

There's a little flinch. Then, Sam looks up. His expression is blank, even as tears stream down his cheeks. Gene sucks in an involuntary breath.

 

'What?' Sam sounds confused. Christ, he's not even realised, has he.

 

Gene digs in his trouser pockets, comes up with a hanky and hands it to Sam, who at first doesn't seem to know what to do with it. Only once he spots the small dark stains on his duvet does he understand, and reluctantly accept Gene's offer. Gene is glad – he wouldn't have known what else to do.

 

What a sodding mess.

 

**

 

If it had been up to Gene, he would have whisked Sam away to his own home from the get-go, no questions asked. But Annie insisted they give Sam the choice of whether to stay with her or with Gene, and he has to admit that it was a bloody good idea to do that. Sam chooses to go with his DCI in the end, God knows why.

 

They set him up in Gene's spare bedroom. It's on the same floor as the master bedroom, but further down the hall, so anyone who'd want to get to Sam would have to go through Gene first. Seeing as he still doesn't know who assaulted his DI, it seems like the logical thing to do.

 

The first night goes by eventlessly. They have dinner, they watch some telly. Sam doesn't say much, and Gene doesn't ask much. He figures that trying to get Sam to talk won't do much good. So he'll wait. Though he has to admit, Sam being so quiet, not even commenting on the news with his loony 'predictions' – it's unnerving. That's not the Sam he knows. Gene has to admit that he wants his picky-pain DI back, sooner rather than later.

 

**

 

The next morning, Sam wants to go to work.

 

'You sure that's a good idea?'

 

'There's a ton of files to go through.'

 

'Those can wait.'

 

Sam shakes his head. He isn't looking at Gene. Sam doesn't usually shy away from eye-contact like this.

 

'You look like death warmed over.'

 

Sam takes a breath. Gene can see his hands curling into fists slowly. 'I need something to do.'

 

'You could make yourself useful here. Kitchen needs cleaning.'

 

Wrong thing to say, Gene realises after a moment – but not soon enough to prevent Sam's hands from grabbing onto his lapels and slamming him back into the wall. He's staring right into Gene's eyes now, his own blazing with fury and hurt.

 

'Don't you dare--' Sam's voice is almost breaking as he fights for words – and then, just as quickly as it flared up, his temper is gone, and he lets go of Gene as though he's burned himself, backing up a few quick steps. His chest is still heaving, and the look in his eyes has gone from angry to insecure and... and scared.

 

Gene straightens his back, slowly reaches up to adjust his collar and tie.

 

'Cartwright's gonna bring you the files. You stay here.'

 

He's out of the house before Sam has a chance to answer.

 

**

 

When Gene comes back in the evening, Sam's already in bed. There's a stack of neatly organised files and filled out forms on the kitchen table.

 

**

 

It continues like this. Sometimes it seems that Sam is improving, talking of his own accord, asking Gene about how things are going at the station. Sometimes, he retreats to the guest room and refuses to come out. Gene doesn't know how much he sleeps, but it can't be much, judging from how often Sam goes out to buy coffee.

 

Gene didn't expect it to be an easy process. Gene didn't expect anything – he didn't _know_ what to expect. He's not had to deal with a rape case this intimately before.

 

It's obvious, though, that the most important thing is to keep Sam from doing something stupid. So Gene watches over him. Tries to carefully intervene whenever his gut feeling tells him to. Of course he's impatient for Sam to finally tell him at least who the bastards were who did this to him, but being a good copper, Gene knows when to stop pushing and wait instead. Sam probably wouldn't believe him, but Gene is actually pretty decent at waiting, when he wants to be.

 

**

 

It's when the nightmares start that Gene knows Sam is finally on the right track. Granted, Gene would rather be asleep than having to helplessly watch as his DI curls into a ball on the bed, gasping and sobbing. But it's _something_. Sam lets Gene sit down next to him. Even lets him gently place his palm on Sam's leg. It seems to soothe Sam, and so Gene doesn't think twice about it. What matters is that Sam gets better, and if that requires a bit of a touchy-feely approach, then so be it.

 

**

 

A week later, Sam finally tells Gene about the incident. No details, but at least now Gene knows that the perpetrators are already dead. The knowledge doesn't give him any satisfaction though, and Sam must notice, because his voice is subdued as he says, 'M'sorry I didn't tell you sooner.'

 

Gene shakes his head. 'Don't be daft.'

 

Sam remains silent and finishes his scotch.

 

**

 

When Sam again asks to go into work, Gene doesn't object. He seems more stable now. Definitely a lot less apathetic than he was during the first few weeks after he broke down. Gene takes that as a good sign. Sam clearly lets him know when he doesn't like something Gene's said or done. He states in no uncertain terms when he's uncomfortable with a situation.

 

Those are all improvements, no doubt.

 

But at the same time, Sam has become more distant. He keeps insisting on doing things himself, refuses any help offered to him. The reason for this is obvious, but Gene's gut is telling him that it's not doing Sam any good. So he takes to just doing some of Sam's tasks without asking. If Sam notices, he doesn't comment on it.

 

**

 

It's been months now. Sam still hasn't told him the full story. Gene isn't sure any more that he wants to hear it.

 

He isn't sure whether he'll ever get his picky-pain DI back either. Sometimes, the old Sam shines through – a snarky remark on the side that makes them both pause, as though they're not sure it really happened; a hidden smile as he sits among the others in the pub, probably not even aware of it. Gene cherishes those moments. The rest of the time, he finds himself simply appreciating Sam's presence, and the fact that he chose to return to his work at all.

 

Sam still lives with him. They talked about it, with Sam himself speaking up to address the issue. That in itself told Gene how much his DI had improved at that point. Of course, he had no objections - it's a comfortable arrangement for both of them (Sam is a bloody fantastic cook). Sam has made the guest room _his_ room, put an old desk he'd found in Gene's garage in there. It's quite cozy now, come to think of it. Cartwright drops by for tea and a chat sometimes.

 

The nightmares don't happen as frequently any more.

 

Gene doesn't know where they'll go from here. He doesn't know if Sam will ever tell him the full story of what happened to him. However, he has made sure that Sam understands he doesn't _have_ to. It's his choice.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, what I really wanted to do here is explore both Sam's and Gene's minds in a way that hopefully hasn't been done before. I've always shied away from writing noncon, partly because I felt I couldn't really contribute anything new to what the fandom already had produced, but also because it simply is such a minefield. The idea for this fic finally made me confident enough to go through with it. That doesn't change the fact, however, that i'm still quite nervous about posting this. XD
> 
> Since I was more interested in delving into Sam's and Gene's heads, I didn't give the attackers names or background, and refrained from using known villains from the show, as that would have drawn the focus away from where I wanted it to be.
> 
> And finally... thank you for reading. <3


End file.
